


Something was crying

by HellsPurestDevil



Series: Project Mythicus [6]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Crying, Gen, Modern Era, Scratching, Strange Noises, ghost - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 16:44:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20294725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HellsPurestDevil/pseuds/HellsPurestDevil
Summary: Something was always crying nowadays





	Something was crying

Something was scratching in the attic.

_Someone_ was crying in the attic.

Philip didn't know who, and, if he was being honest with himself, he honestly really didn't care all that much. Someone was always crying nowadays, as far as he was concerned. At the bottom of the steps, in the attic, somewhere under his feet, scrapping at the dirt, covered in blood and rot and unearthly filth, crying....wailing....at all hours of the night, into the wee hours of the day, before they faded off into silence only to pick up where they left off sometime later.

The sound of the wailing tapered off as Philip sat in his living room staring at his ceiling. Someone was always crying, and he had found out that it was usually best to leave the criers alone for the time being. He was meant to help them. Yes, he knew that. He would help them, in time, he knew that too.

But…

_Sigh_

He just couldn't deal with the crying.

All his life he had dealt with the crying. His mother for example, would cry at night sometimes, when she thought he was asleep… When she thought he couldn't hear.

He did, of course. He always did.

She was sad. It was understandable.

Her husband had been unfaithful, her parents had gone, her youngest son could see and hear and feel things that were _hurting_ him, and she was just so so helpless too do anything about it. It had been a little over three years since Philip had told her about the ghosts, since Grandpa before he died had helped her too understand, and though things had become increasingly better between them, it didn't mean that everything was okay.

It would never _be_ okay, not really.

That was why the criers got to him, he supposed.

He hated having to help the ones who just wanted to _**be**_ okay, because he knew that, in their eyes, that would never be a possibility, not now anyways. It hurt to make them see the reality of their positions, the reality that both tortured them and healed them simultaneously.

Because in the end, though they were dead, they were finally free. And wasn't that such a beautiful, bittersweet little thing to have happen.

So yes, Philip avoided the criers for the time being. Maybe it was because they were so hopeless. Maybe because they were so sad. Or maybe it was because somewhere, deep deep down, in that part he hid from everyone, Philip envied them with a passion..

Philip looked up, there was a scratching sound coming from the attic.

Something was crying again


End file.
